Ben Pobjie

Pierre White and Matt Preston with the Masterchef: The Professionals trophy.

The final of any televised competition is always an exciting and blood-stirring event, and Masterchef: The Professionals is only partially an exception. One cannot help but be thrilled by the idea of finding out just who is Australia's best professional but not particularly accomplished entry-level possible future chef who wanted to be on TV. The prize is indeed the holy grail of chefs whose actual careers aren't going anywhere much and who want to be on Ready Steady Cook someday.

We begin tonight's finale with a flashback to 1992 when the series started, and a reminder that Cameron used to be a thing – remember Cameron? Nah me either. We also see flashbacks to when all the chefs rode horses and the time Adriano Zumbo married fifty women in one day.

It also, when completed, looks a lot like a piece of pineapple that has been left in a landfill for a month.

But the past is in the past. Tonight is all about the knife-wielding gladiators who will contest this epic finale: Rhett, the man you love to hate, and hate to love, and hate to hate, and love to turn the TV off when he's on. Sarah, icon of pissed-off people who hate everyone everywhere. And Rhys, who has given up a lucrative career as Angus Stone to pursue his culinary dream. The announcer tells us that the stakes have never been higher. Or possibly that the steaks have never been higher. It's either a reference to the pressure of the final, or what Rhys is slipping into the beef.

Eyes on the prize ... Rhys, Sarah and Rhett in the finale episode of Masterchef The Professionals.

The day of the final opens with Rhys riding in a car and telling us the depressing story of his life: he's had more downs than ups, but this is a major up. In fact in many ways being a professional chef and TV star is much better than being a destitute drug addict. Sarah lets us now that she's doing it for her, nobody else, which many of us guessed early on from the look of pure hatred in her eye whenever anyone talks to her. Rhett lets us know that he wants to win, and via subtle body language and intonation, that he is a massive tool.

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Into the locker room, where whites are donned. Rhys feels like he's going into battle. Probably some kind of hallucinogen. Sarah tells us she can, in fact, believe she's standing here, but actually she is sitting, so she's a bit of a liar. Rhett says it's "surreal" because he doesn't know what that word means.

In the kitchen all the losers are there in their loser clothes clapping for a bit too long. Matt welcomes the three warriors to the finale and everyone claps a bit more. Just how much of this incredibly long program is going to be clapping? Matt reveals that the winner will reveal "this spectacular trophy"; we cut to a close-up of Sarah's face indicating just how "spectacular" this shiny showbag-filler really is. Marco tells them that they have inspired him, in the manner of a man who still can't really match any of the faces in front of him to the names scribbled on his hand.

Winner: Rhys.

The day's first challenge will be set by David Chang, the legendary chef who has accomplished many things in his career, all of them in the form black and white still photos. The challenge he has chosen is a reinvention test. Chang says that in reinvention you have to keep it simple, but that doesn't mean it's not complex. Apparently he has been too busy cooking to learn what words mean.

They are to pull knives out of a block. Rhett is hoping for some funky Asian stuff, possibly referring to food. Sarah pulls out the miso knife: "pretty happy with that," she says, looking as happy as a woman who's just been fired for taking the day off to attend her dog's funeral. Rhys pulls out egg, and then Rhett pulls out chicken, so there's that question answered.

"The whirlwind is about to be unleashed," says Matt, blowing mightily at them, and off they go to the pantry, weird music playing to establish a mood of…I'm not sure. Dizziness?

Rhys has hit a mental block. All he can think of is something Asian, so he grabs some things. Rhys has been smoking some serious banana skins. As the spectators cheer him sleepily from the balcony, Rhys wanders aimlessly around the kitchen before returning to the pantry. He mutters to himself for a bit, lies down for a brief nap, and then he's up and at them. David and Matt ask Rhys what he's going to cook. He's going to make a crepe of some kind, in an attempt to reinvent the concept of cluelessness.

Sarah is a lot more together and hostile to questioning. She's making some kind of weird Scotch quail egg thing, and Matt and David have no desire to hang around at her bench to find out more. She's a bit worried about the egg, in case it hatches and she forms an attachment to the baby quail, as she knows her parents won't let her keep it.

Meanwhile Rhett has decided to make some gross gloop in a bowl. The judges don't even ask him about it because he's just terrible company.

Rhys really wants to relax, suggesting he has chosen a very poor career path. Rhett wants to smoke his chicken breast, along with its family and associates. Marco and David murmur to each other about how crap Rhett is. It's like a schoolyard sometimes, with all these bitchy little cliques. "I like to see them run," Marco purrs in what is probably the single most disturbing moment in all Masterchef history.

Elsewhere Matt is making droning noises at Sarah, who proceeds to cut her egg in half and rejoices at what she finds – an egg. "Kaching Kachang!" shouts Matt, still searching desperately for a catchphrase so Mark Holden doesn't keep lording it over him at Christmas parties.

With one minute to go, each chef arranges their food on the plate so it looks exactly like it's just spilled out of a bin, and time's up!

Rhys is first, and Marco compliments him on the amount of time and effort he's put in, before telling him it's not very good. The lesson for Rhys is clear: he should try a lot less hard. Luckily, this is something he's very very good at.

Sarah steps up to serve her dish, resisting her constant urge to snap, "F--- you" as she does so. David thinks she's done a nice take on the Scotch egg, but thinks it's not "cohesive". Hey David, it's a Scotch EGG, not Scotch TAPE! Hahahahahahaha oh it's good to laugh unless you're Sarah.

Rhett's turn, and his dish looks spectacular, but then that's easy when you've sprayed everything with hair lacquer. "Your chicken skin is delicious," says Matt in serial killerish fashion, but finds fault with the mayo, which is too sweet. "It's true!" says Rhett. So why'd you do it then you idiot?

Scoring time, and Rhys receives 5/10 from David, who thought it "tasted great", but doesn't understand what food is for and therefore doesn't think it was very good. He also gives a five to Sarah, who in an almost superhuman display of willpower does NOT make a wanking motion with her hand. With Rhys and Sarah on 17 each, Rhett says, "all I'm thinking is how to improve on that dish", but this is a lie: he is also thinking about how great his hair looks.

"Your dish was at least beautiful," says Matt to Rhett, sighing over the ineptitude of the hapless rabble he sees before him. Rhett has scored 19 and takes the lead going into round two, which will be a dramatic cello music challenge.

It's a pressure test in which they will have to cook a dish invented by Marco Pierre White himself. So I guess it will involve a lot of Continental Real Stock. Marco brings the chefs to the bench, lifts the cloche off the table, and sets fire to them all.

No, actually it's an ad break, and time once again to be reminded of humanity's ceaseless quest to find a kitchen appliance so simple even men can operate it.

Back in the kitchen, Marco reveals the dish they must cook: it is…a slab of cat food soaked in urine. "It's cooking stripped bare," says Marco, apparently confusing the phrase "stripped bare" with the phrase "found in an alley underneath a tramp".

A cutaway to Rhys reveals that he calls Marco "Em Pee Dubs", and says things like "This is gonna be sick". He really is mixing and matching the pharmaceuticals by this stage.

Marco shows them how to make his disgusting yellow terrine blob thing. Rhys asks how long it will take to cook the lobster. "Until it's cooked," grins Marco, not interested in the slightest in not being a smug knob-end for a minute or so.

Marco's "cooking stripped bare" dish for some reason involved enormous slabs of cement. This seems not so much "cooking stripped bare" as "cooking which needlessly incorporates construction materials". It also, when completed, looks a lot like a piece of pineapple that has been left in a landfill for a month. The contestants have two and a half hours to try to make their own terrine as nauseating as Marco's.

Matt asks Rhys if he needs a recipe. Rhys doesn't think he needs a recipe – all he needs is some cement and a bag full of microscopic parasites. Then again, his opinion that he doesn't need a recipe is coloured slightly by the fact that he didn't know there was one.

A quick ad break, in which a Biggest Loser promo reminds us that contrary to Masterchef's assertions, food is evil, and we're back. Sarah explains that she's made quite a few terrines before, but this one is particularly hard, because it's even more revolting than your average terrine. Meanwhile, Rhys says something about "the pinky in the tail". I don't know what that means but it sounds pretty obscene. Back to Sarah who emphasises that this dish, unlike all other dishes cooked in the series, needs to be cooked well as opposed to badly. She also notes that Rhett's leeks look quite underdone – we've all known this since the first episode of course.

Sarah begins construction – one layer of leeks, then wedging in the lobster, which really is a terrible way to go about making something that is supposedly edible. The chefs then begin helping erect the concrete slabs, their manner betraying the fact that they all suspect this challenge of being really stupid. Marco peers at them predatorily and lets them know his inspiration for the dish was Stonehenge, causing the contestants to dash back to the pantry in search of a heavy metal band and some dancing midgets. Sarah is hoping everything won't go pear-shaped, but that seems a safe bet – pears are a food.

As the music becomes irritating and tense, Rhett discovers he's undercooked his leeks, and Marco is laughing with delight much like Satan in American Pie. "Chefs!" barks Marco, which seems a pretty outrageous piece of flattery to this lot, "two minutes to go!" Rhys's terrine is falling apart. Rhett's terrine is falling apart. Frankly it seems like a lot of effort and angst for a dish that is basically just smashing lobster and leeks together until they look semi-digested.

Rhett serves his terrine up. He hasn't cooked it properly and it isn't a terrine. This may be a plus, however, as generally speaking terrines are at their best when they're not terrines.

Sarah serves hers and she's done a very good job. The terrine is smooth and gluggy, the bits that look like enormous fly eggs look exactly like enormous fly eggs, and the bits that look like mould are extremely mouldy. It's a triumph of garbage cuisine.

In steps Rhys, who by now is so high that he thinks he's serving to one of the best chefs in the world and the best food critic in the world. Actually he's serving to Marco and Matt, who tuck in enthusiastically despite the fairly obvious risk of intestinal worms. Rhys doesn't realise how well he's done, according to Marco. Probably the drugs.

From the balcony, Coop looks down with murder in his eyes as the scores are given. Rhett scores 12 out of 20 and the spectators clap because clearly there is an enormous flashing APPLAUSE sign somewhere in the kitchen. Sarah gets 15/20 – she did much better than Rhett, but Matt thought her "leeks were a little squeaky", which is either bizarre cooking jargon, an activation code for a terrorist sleeper cell, or sexual harassment. But Rhys scores SEVENTEEN out of twenty! His tactic of not really trying has paid off in spades!

Amazingly, the finale is still going, as Masterchef: The Professionals devolves into a barbed pastiche of They Shoot Horses, Don't They? The final challenge is serving a restaurant with 120 guests blah blah blah this is terribly original. "We're not totally heartless, so we thought we'd give you a hand," says Matt. They will be allowed assistants for the final challenge. However, the assistants will be drawn from the already-eliminated contestants, so I guess they are totally heartless after all.

Sarah chooses Nathan, knowing that a team without an enormous beard isn't a team at all. Rhett chooses Michael, knowing that hyperactivity counts for a lot in service. Rhys chooses Kiah, because he's on drugs. Sarah then chooses Coop, who continues to find clever ways to avoid his family. Rhett chooses Nick, because he likes a man who says "crikey". Rhys chooses Cassie, because he knows that what his team is missing is the willingness to literally kill innocent people.

The assistants rush off to get dressed – still no nudity, thanks a lot, Channel Ten – and it's into the pantry to pick up a bunch of ingredients, and into the kitchen to plan the menu. Rhett begins to go mad with power, grinning maniacally and throwing lobster into boiling water, screaming at his assistants, "YOU'RE NEXT!"

Marco begins stalking the kitchen, saying "if you make a mess, you create another job for yourself". This is patently untrue – it's only by cleaning up a mess that you create another job for yourself. He also says things like, "There's only one way to work – the correct way", so Marco is essentially worthless. It's probably best, if you're cooking in a kitchen that contains Marco Pierre White, to treat him as a sort of human chicane to be driven around. Sarah, however, makes the mistake of attempting to poison him with sausage meat. It doesn't work: Marco cannot be killed by conventional methods.

Rhys is barking out orders to Kiah, who's trying to remember which way to turn the knob on the oven. He's got Cassie erotically massaging lamb loins, while he himself quietly begins stealing appliances. Kiah has never cooked black pudding before, and he has also never followed instructions before, which is why he ruins the black pudding. He just boiled them, when in fact he needed to "cryo-vac" them, which I believe is a method by which black pudding is frozen in suspended animation until a cure for their illness is found.

On Rhett's team, Rhett is carrying out the primary purpose of a team leader, which is loudly braying at length about how he is the team leader. His talking about being a team leader activities are interrupted, however, by Marco, who gathers all the chefs together for an inspirational time-wasting session. At this point Matt informs them all that they'll be cooking for 120 chefs. And, like, real chefs, not Masterchef: The Professionals chefs. Rhys, Sarah and Rhett are all very nervous: they know how to cook, but cooking for people who know the difference between good and bad food is a whole other kettle of squab.

"We want tears, we want sweat!" cries Marco, his advancing years causing him to develop demented ideas about seasoning. It's service time, and his blood is up – he quickly loses his mind and begins screaming at everyone about scallops. "Why do I have to do all the shouting?" he demands, feeling the injustice of having responsibility for all the show's insanity on his broad shoulders.

We pause so Rhett can remind us that he is, in fact, in charge of his team.

As the dishes go out, they all seem to be large white plates containing small piles of unidentifiable substances, so the chefs should love it. At Matt's table they're tucking into some disturbingly anatomical-looking prawns and chorizo: what inspired Sarah to attempt to combine cooking with gynaecology in this way?

Back in the kitchen, Marco continues to bark at people about scallops. He accuses Rhys of lying to him. He shouts some more. He claims the nurses are trying to poison him. He complains his children never visit anymore. He yells "I'm waiting for my food": he has actually ceased to be aware of his surroundings.

Meanwhile Rhys tells us that cooking is just like surfing: you just worry about the next dish that's coming, and occasionally a shark bites your arm off.

Elsewhere, Rhett, who is in charge of his team, is quite happy with Nick's cunning arrangement of tiny little blobs of mushy pea with peas balanced on top. A meal fit for a small tree frog. Tragically, though, Rhett's dish has gone out without its curd. I didn't know this was a problem: I thought curd was something you throw away; but apparently this is a disaster. If only someone knew who was in charge of Rhett's team, we'd know who to blame.

Rhett tells us that when something is sent back, all you can do is fix it. This clears up the situation for many laypeople, who wondered whether Rhett was considering ritual suicide or escaping on a motorcycle.

As food flies hither and yon, tension rises, as Rhett expresses his love of yelling and hatred of the young. Rhys and his team are encouraging each other, and Rhett objects to this: HE is in charge of his team, and he will allow nobody to feel that they are human beings. Joke's on Rhett: Rhys's flavours are beautiful, the taste of pep talks infusing them beautifully.

Dessert is coming up. Rhett's dessert is not egotistical, which seems incongruous. But at least he's not taking too long, like Sarah, who's developed severe obsessive-compulsive disorder at the worst possible time.

"How long? How long? How long?" Marco bellows, unaware that everyone went home hours ago. Back in the present, he threatens to shut down the service. Sarah is upset because Marco is like a god to her, and he has rejected all her live sacrifices. Marco has now switched to yelling about chocolate. Rhys has taken something tainted, and is babbling, "fang it out, fang it out, fang it out". Nobody knows what this means.

At the table, Matt refers to Rhys's dessert as "like classic hits and melodies": Rhys's decision to include shredded pieces of Manfred Mann's Earth Band is a winner.

Service is over. "What you've achieved is incredible," says Marco. And indeed, cooking and serving food is an amazing feat, and one beyond the reach of most human beings.

It is time for judgment, time for resolution, time to discover who really is the best out of a tiny sub-section of Australian chefs. Marco tells the three finalists that he's enjoyed every moment he's spent with them. Two of them are Rhett and Sarah so we know this is a lie.

First, Rhett. Marco gives him a nine. His lobster was perfectly cooked and also he was in charge of his team according to rumour, but his dessert was not so good. Matt gives him an eight and he finished with 48.

Sarah suffers from her lack of organisation and also a really sour attitude towards life generally. She gets seven from Marco, but Matt, in a needlessly personal remark, says he loved her "beef", and gives her a nine. She is also on 48.

Rhys showed leadership qualities in the kitchen and gets an eight from Marco, losing points for his incredibly unhygienic hairstyle. Matt points out that his entrée was clumsy due to problems with the black pudding. Kiah is quietly taken out the back and shot. Luckily, Rhys's decision to emphasise incompetence in team selection has not cost him. Matt gives him an eight and Rhys is Australia's first Professional Masterchef! And also probably the last! Because let's be honest! We've all seen the ratings!

Rhys notes sagely that cooking alongside "these guys" has been "mental". It seems an apt description. He has little else to say, as he is mostly interested in looking at his fingers and listening to flowers sing. Sarah and Rhett get ten thousand dollars each to purchase some human emotions with, and little bits of shiny paper rain down from the ceiling. God's in his heaven, all's right with the world, and we all heave a sigh of relief, hoping that next up Masterchef will go back to do what it does best: crying amateurs.

63 comments so far

I was informed by my husband that "fang it out" is a bogan term for revving up a motorcycle. When I cackled that he was enough of a bogan to know this, he loftily informed me he comes from high quality bogan stock. I'm happy for Rhys that he won, they actually kept the drugs thing quiet until he was quite a long way into the series, unlike Coop, who seemed to think banging on with his sob story would be a pass to win. No offense to his child or family, but it got tiresome. Hilarious recap, Marco laughing at Rhett and that horrible terrine was a highlight. Oh, that terrine looked awful.

Commenter

Rhubarbapple

Location

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 7:51AM

"Fanging it" or "going for a fang" are classic pieces of Australian slang meaning to drive fast. It goes back to the fifties and nothing to do with bogans. They were derived from the great racing driver Juan Manuel Fangio.

Where have you been this series Ben? Masterchef fans needed you but you deserted us for the general nastiness of MKR. A show which requires no commentary since it's own self-parody.

Commenter

Anthony

Location

Victoria

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 8:24AM

People who're quick to apply the bogan label, are typically middle-class Aussies, desperately trying to distance themselves from said stereotype.

Like school aged children who project their own insecurities on others.

Commenter

MadamImAdam

Location

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 1:01PM

Or distance themselves from druggies. Either way, you cannot lose an argument if you include the term 'middle class Australians'. And if there has ever been a Bogan on tv it is Rhys, even 'middle class ASPIRATIONAL Australians know that - Bogan ones and all.

Commenter

Greg knows best

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 5:17PM

Ben, an entertaining summary of the final. However, where did you get that caricature of Sarah? She doesn't come across as angry to me.. if anything she seems very centered most of the time, perhaps a little shy....

Glad Rhet didn't win

Commenter

astrovouk

Location

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 7:56AM

Marvellous summary of this show, but I too thought Sarah intense a bit driven), rather than angry. I was very very disappointed at the outcome. Having dumped classic Masterchef some series ago, because of its manipulation, I was willing to give MCP a try. Last night the manipulation was there in spades. Sarah and (gulp) Rhett were by far the most professional and consistent of the chefs. Rhys came up with some good dishes, but they were never 'creations' of his own. He's too laid back to be a serious professional chef, now or in the future, but unlike Sarah, he does (or could) fit the TV chef persona. Marco has now taken his Channel 10 cheque and will retreat to his semi-retirement, probably nashing his teeth that he lowered his professional standards to a) be associated with MCP in the first place, and b) let the producers manipulate the outcome to not award it to Sarah - or perhaps at a stretch, Rhett.

Commenter

Liberte

Location

Canberra

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 11:29AM

Nah. Rhys deserved it. He of the three will gain most from a round-the-globe work experience trip, too. The other two are accomplished chefs and will do just fine.

Commenter

Alix

Location

Melbourne

Date and time

March 19, 2013, 10:38AM

MasterChef was always destined to be a dud, both in ratings and content, with Pierre White and Matt Preston at the helm.

Commenter

Gavin S

Location

Bundanoon, NSW

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 8:02AM

I thought both Marco and Matt were terrific, they helped make it very watchable. If anything explains the drop in ratings I'd suggest it was the chefs being somewhat strongly capable neither had a disaster or complete crash so hard to wait for that and all the ratings that can deliver.Plus I think being seen as a Melbourne show just dosnt cut it for Sydney, shame but likely true.

Commenter

Saintly Dave

Location

Sarah's happy place

Date and time

March 18, 2013, 5:36PM

I'm really sad that this series has ended because I'm going to miss seeing Marco "tossing invisible darts at the contestants", but most of all I won't be reading any more hilarious recaps! Thank you Ben, for helping us laugh at a show that can't laugh at itself.